


The Best We Can Hope For

by yodasyoyo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hale Pack are alive!, Interventions, Jealous Derek, M/M, Oblivious Derek, alpha!Derek, double dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo
Summary: Written for the prompt: Double date at movies with jealous Derek"She works at Target for fuck’s sake. Target doesn't employ evil supernatural beings. Everyone knows they work at Walmart.”OR:Derek goes on a double date with Stiles. It goes about as well as can be expected.





	The Best We Can Hope For

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [The Best We Can Hope For](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520292) by [LonelyLikeACastaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyLikeACastaway/pseuds/LonelyLikeACastaway)



> So, hi folks! it's been a while. Writer's block is a thing, let me tell you. And then this prompt came through yesterday from Bunny, and my brain was like... yeaaaah,,, let's write jealous!Derek. Lets write it noooooow.

“Why is there a banner above the window?” Derek asks flatly as he enters his apartment.

It reads: Happy 50th Birthday Aunt, in big glittery font, but someone has crossed it out with a magic marker and written INTERVENTION in bold black letters.

Which… oh. OH.

He stares round at his pack; Isaac and Erica, stand resolutely under the banner, Boyd’s slouched in an armchair fiddling with his cellphone. Scott and Lydia are on the couch. Stiles is sitting cross-legged on the floor, slurping a Big Gulp noisily,  _Jesus._ Even Peter’s here, sitting on the twisty spiral staircase, smirking. The bastard.

“Just for the record, I said this was a bad idea,” Boyd says, not looking up from his phone.

And, well, privately Derek’s always thought of Boyd as his favorite, and it’s good to know that in that respect his judgement is beyond reproach.

“We just feel—” Isaac begins.

“ _Some_ of us feel,” Stiles cuts in pointedly, cheeks hollowing obscenely as he slurps the last of his drink; it must be mostly ice now, and the noise is horrific. Derek stares at him, unable to look away.

“Okay, the ones who are actually getting thrown around by you in ‘training’,” Isaac makes the air quotes and everything. “Feel, that it might be a good for you to, well, for you to—uh,” He trails off, blushing furiously.

Nobody tries to finish the sentence.

“What?” Derek grits out.

Awkward silence follows.

Eventually Scott sighs. “Look, you’re obviously frustrated,” he says carefully. “Feeling a little tightly wound, and we thought—we thought—” he falters.

“We thought you might need to _release some tension_ ,” Erica finishes, she winks at him. Significantly.

And, ohhhhhh.

Okay.

Okay, maybe he has been a little tense recently. There was the whole thing with the witches, and then the ogre, and the witches part II, and then those asshole hunters that came through. Derek can see how maybe he’s been a little tense, and therefore a little hard on them. Possibly.

And things _have_ been quieter in the last week or two. Perhaps they could do with a break.

“Release some tension,” he repeats thoughtfully.

“Yes. Exactly.” Isaac nods vigorously. “You get what we mean.”

Derek thinks he does, and it isn’t a bad idea. They’re all tired. Run down. Maybe they could go away somewhere together for a couple of days, like- “Like a spa break?” Derek suggests and Stiles snorts, folds over, hands clasped to his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“Uhhhhh-” Isaac says, blushing furiously. “Well- I mean, that wasn’t precisely what we,” he glances beseechingly at Erica. “Just, ummm-”

“They mean sex,” says Peter. “They want you to get _laid._ "

The silence that follows is epic in both it’s proportions and uncomfortableness, broken only by the choked off sound of Stiles trying not to laugh.

“Or, y’know, at least, maybe go on a date,” Isaac tries, hopefully.

“I date.” He has sex too. Just. Not. Recently. It’s a dry spell is what it is.

The betas, Boyd excepted, turn their best puppy eyes upon him. He can feel Peter smirking at him from the staircase. Stiles is still gently snorting with laughter. Lydia’s examining her fingernails.

So that’s that then, betrayed, by his own pack.

He glares at all of them vengefully and then at the floor, but no, the ground resolutely refuses to open up and swallow him whole.

 _Et tu, ground?_ He thinks to himself. _Et fucking tu?_

 

-

 

It takes some cajoling, but he ends up squished on the couch between Scott and Lydia while the pack sit around baldly discussing his love life, or lack thereof.

Stiles even produces a flip chart from somewhere. He writes, OPERATION: RELEASE THE TENSION in pink sharpie and then draws a picture of a jizzing cock that has a smiley face. It’s… disturbing.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, once he’s finished lovingly drawing artistic droplets of come across the page. “I’m throwing this open to the floor. What do we think?”

“What about online dating?” Isaac suggests, Stiles dutifully writes it down. “We could make you a profile. Stiles could run background checks, make sure there are no- erm, ah—”

“Murderous psychopaths,” Stiles says helpfully, round the pen cap he’s holding between his teeth; when he catches Derek glowering at him he grins. “What?”

“Nothing online.” Derek knows it’s stupid, prejudiced even, but there’s something sad and a bit lonely about that idea. Besides. People lie on the internet. People lie all the time. If he’s going to meet someone, he wants to actually meet them. Face to face. See them. _Smell_ them. Chatting awkwardly to them on the internet first doesn’t appeal, and he says as much.

“So, if it’s face to face you want, just go to a club,” Erica suggests. “I mean you’re just looking to blow off steam, right? An anonymous club hook-up is perfect.” She grins. “No muss, no fuss. Wham bam, thank-you ma’am. You never have to see them again.”

“His eyebrows are doing the thing,” Stiles says, he’s been watching Derek intently, pen poised over the flipchart. “That’s definitely a ‘no’ to clubbing.”

“Maybe a bar?” Erica says hopefully. Like the _location_ was the issue.

“No.” Derek grinds out. “No hook-ups. I don’t- I don’t want that.”

“Well what do you want?” Erica pouts.

“I don’t know. You’re the ones that-”

“I have a friend—” Lydia cuts in. “I could set you up.”

“Ooooh, nice. I like it.” Stiles writes it on the board. “What’s her name? His name? Their name?”

“Karin,” Lydia says, smugly. “She’s been working nights at that bar on Maple over the summer, but she’s studying Anthropology at Stanford—”

“I don’t know anything about anthropology,” Derek grumps and Lydia scowls.

“So, make that part of the date. Ask questions. Make an effort! Honestly-”

“You’re sure she’s not—” Stiles makes a complicated gesture that manages to convey: Secretly evil and prone to murder.

“As sure as I can be,” Lydia says witheringly.

“Hmmmm…” Stiles taps the sharpie against his lips, he doesn’t sound entirely convinced which is understandable. Derek’s track record with dating is all kinds of abysmal. At this point he’s starting to wonder if he actually _makes_ them evil, or attracts them, or _something_ , and, from the sour expression on Stiles’ face, it’s entirely possible he’s thinking the same thing.

“You know you could go too,” Peter says blandly.

Stiles head jerks up and he meets Peter’s gaze. “What? Me? Why?”

“I’m just saying, you have good instincts. Make it a double date, if you’re worried that she might be a complete harpy—”

“She is _not_ a harpy!” spits Lydia.

Stiles snorts and says, “Yeah, even Derek isn’t gonna end up dating two harpies by accident, geeze. What are the odds of that?”

Once again, uneasy silence descends. The whole pack stares at each other, and then, as one, at Derek. And he didn’t mean to accidently date a harpy that one time, okay? He’s never going to be allowed to live it down.

Scott clears his throat. “I mean, uh, it couldn’t hurt for one of us to tag along. At least to check them out, right? In case she turns out to be a harpy or a vampire or something.” He chuckles nervously.

“I’m telling you she’s fine,” Lydia says tightly.

“How well do you know her?” Stiles asks. “Has she ever been to your house? Have you seen her eat actual food?”

“No, I just see her at the bar sometimes, but-”

“Ah Ha! Have you ever seen her in daylight?”

“She is not a vampire.” Lydia is flatly unamused.

“That’s a ‘no’ isn’t it?”

“I see her at night because the bar opens at _night._ She’s _fine._ ”

Stiles makes a dismissive noise.

And like that it’s decided. It’s going to be a double date.

 

-

 

Derek spends an unconscionable amount of time on his hair as he gets ready for The Big Night. That’s what Stiles has taken to calling it: The Big Night. Usually followed by much nudging and winking and, occasionally, lectures about what they should do if either Karin or Karin’s friend Suzie (Stiles’ date) turns out to be an actual vampire. (Garlic is useless, ditto holy water and religious symbols. It’s literally a stake through the heart, beheading or sunlight.)

Anyway, Derek spends a lot of time looking in the mirror, staring dully at his reflection, poking at his hair and wondering if he’s used too much gel. Then he spends another hour trying to decide which shirt to wear. And another twenty minutes after that agonizing over whether to bring his leather jacket.

Twice he sits hopelessly on the bed, finger hovering over Stiles’ name, preparing to call the whole thing off. He doesn’t need a date. He doesn’t need to get laid. He is _fine._ If anything he needs to get a different pack, that’s all.

Except, truthfully, he is kind of lonely. Everybody else has someone. Well. Almost everybody. Stiles is still resolutely single, but that’s besides the point. The point is what it’s always been. Trust. And there’s no easy way to get over that.

Sighing, he pulls on his leather jacket takes one last look in the mirror.

It’s one date, he tells himself, Stiles will be there, and honestly? There isn’t anyone Derek would rather have at his back. Stiles has even been round this week, prepping him, with date appropriate conversation topics, he’s even created flash cards.

“Not that you need the help,” he’d said wistfully, “Look at you. Going on a double date with you, I’m basically cockblocking myself. One look at you and nobody’s gonna-”

“Shut up,” Derek had said, “You know you’re attractive—”

“You think so?” Stiles had blushed, scent warm and happy.

It had made something twist uncomfortably in Derek’s chest.

He glares at himself in the mirror.

It’s gonna be fine. He’s just going to show up, and hopefully no-one will die, and then his pack will feel like he’s made the effort and everyone will be able to get off his back and move on with their own lives, right?

 

-

 

Wrong.

Everything is wrong. The whole date is a disaster. And it isn’t even Karin. She seems perfectly fine. She’s a friendly, petite, blonde, with a wide smile, a wicked sense of humor and almost certainly _not_ a vampire, but Derek doesn’t have time to appreciate any of these excellent qualities.

No.

Because Stiles’ date, Suzie, is a hellion.

A siren.

A succubus.

Okay.

Maybe not literally, but she’s something.

Oh yes.

She’s _something._ Derek can _tell._

Right now she’s regaling them with an amusing anecdote about a puppy that has Stiles and Karin hooting with laughter.

“Oh my _god,_ ” Stiles says, “I haven’t laughed this much in ages.” He wipes a tear away from his eye, and Suzie, _fucking Suzie,_ grins and puts her hand on his _knee_. “That was funny,” Stiles says, “Right? Right, Derek?”

Derek scowls, “Yeah,” he says, eyes narrowing dangerously as he glares at Suzie. “Funny. Reaaaal funny.”

Uneasy silence falls and Karin clears her throat and glances round the table, “So, uh, Derek, where do you work? Lydia never said.”

“I-Uh-” he begins, then trails off, because Suzie is helping herself to one of Stiles’ fries, and Stiles is _letting_ her. Like she isn’t a potentially evil creature of the night that could have venom or poison or at the very least may not have adequately washed her hands before the meal.

“Derek,” Stiles prompts. “Karin asked what you do-”

“Yeah, sorry,” he says absently, unable to drag his gaze away from the horror of Suzie helping herself to more fries. “I’m an alpha we-”

“An alpha weatherman!” Stiles says hurriedly, eyes wide and panicked.

“An alpha weatherman?” Karin asks, “What? I’ve never heard of that, is that a thing?”

“That’s just his unofficial title, y’know, because he’s been doing it so long. He’s totally the top dog. Of weathermen. Right, Der?” Derek blinks, nods mechanically.

“Cool,” Suzie says, with a grin, “What channel?”

“Radio!” Stiles squeaks, with a high pitched laugh. “It’s just local radio. A small station, tiny really, you won’t have heard of it.”

Karin frowns. “So,” she says slowly, “you’re the _Alpha Weatherman_ of a tiny radio station.”

“Uh- yes, yep. That sounds about right. Right, Der?”

Suzie hooks her arm through Stiles’ and is trying to feed him a pickle. Stiles doesn’t even _like_ pickles, Derek thinks vindictively, and then winces, because Stiles has kicked him hard in the shin.

“Right, Der?” Stiles grits out again.

“Uh, yes. Whatever you said. That’s right.” He offers what he hopes is a winning smile, but in truth it’s probably more of a rictus grin.

The next fifteen minutes are spent fielding a series of increasingly detailed and invasive questions about his supposed job from Karin, who, he suspects, doesn’t really believe he’s a weatherman.

Not that Derek cares. He has bigger fish to fry.

Sure, Suzie looks human. She even smells human, but that means _nothing_ , okay?

She’s clearly evil.

And Derek is going to prove it.

 

-

 

When they leave the diner Derek sticks close to Stiles. Hovers watchfully at his shoulder, and bares his teeth in a smile as Suzie tells _another_ ‘amusing’ story, that has Stiles and Karin chuckling. This time it’s something she’s seen on the internet.

Honestly. The internet.

Like that’s what funny is. Derek snorts.

Like Stiles isn’t funny all the goddamn time, _naturally,_ which Suzie would _know,_ if she just gave him a chance to _speak_.

“Oh. My. God,” Stiles says, “ _Derek._ ”

Annnnd… he may have been talking out loud this entire time, because everyone is staring at him, and they all look kind of horrified.

He clears his throat. “We should get to the cinema,” he says. “We don’t wanna miss the movie.”

 

-

 

“Oh my god, what is _wrong_ ?” Stiles drags him into the men’s room at the cinema as soon as they arrive, and it is a _relief._

“You feel it too?” Derek says. _God,_ Stiles is starting to smell like her. Like lavender and the _wrong kind of soap. Evil_ soap. Derek reaches out and runs a hand over Stiles’ arm in a vain attempt to obliterate the scent.

“Oh, I feel it,” Stiles says, pulling away and crossing his arms.

“Well what are we gonna do about it? Should we call the date off?” Because if they leave now, they could maybe go back to Derek’s place and sit on the couch, maybe watch the new Marvel movie. He could lend Stiles a t-shirt. For no reason.

“No,” Stiles spits incredulously, “We are not going to call the _date off._ ”

“But-” Derek sputters, “You said you felt it?”

“Yeah, I felt you being a colossal dick to my date. Who is _in_ to me by the way. What the hell, dude?”

Oh.

Well.

Derek’s just gonna have to break it to him gently. “Look,” he says kindly, taking both Stiles’ hands in his. “I know it’s hard to hear, trust me I’ve been there, but Stiles, I think something’s wrong with Suzie.”

Stiles takes an involuntary step back, frowning. “Seriously? But- but she seems so normal. What is it? Did you smell something- Is she… not human?”

“No, she smells human,” Derek admits, “As far as I can tell.”

“So,” Stiles watches him expectantly, “What is it? Because they both seem normal to me. I am not getting a single bad vibe.”

“It’s just—” Derek opens his mouth. Shuts it again.  There has to be something. Something concrete. Something he can say that will convince Stiles. “She tried to feed you a pickle.”

“Yes,” Stiles says with maddening patience. “But, and correct me if I’m wrong here Derek, that isn’t actually a sign of malevolent supernatural evil. That’s just because she doesn’t know I don’t like pickles.”

“Her funny stories aren’t funny.”

“Yeah, we all got that you don’t think she’s funny. Again, not actually a sign of the apocalypse.”

“But-”

“Derek, old buddy, old pal, don’t take this the wrong way, but at this point, the fact that you think she’s evil is _almost_ a point in her favor. She works at Target for fuck’s sake. Target doesn't employ evil supernatural beings. Everyone knows they work at Walmart.”

“Now you see that’s _funny_ ,” Derek says, mulishly. “The thing about the dog wasn’t funny."

“Fine. You didn’t find it funny. But unfunny doesn’t equal evil. Look,” Stiles says, taking Derek firmly by the elbow and leading him out of the men’s room. “How about you worry about your date, and I worry about _mine,_ okay? That way at least one of us might get laid in the next decade.”

 

-

 

There’s nothing he can do, if Stiles isn’t willing to cut and run, then Derek’s gonna have to stay. To protect him. It’s what they _do_ for each other after all.

That in mind, he makes a point of buying all the food, separate jumbo popcorn and separate drinks, for _everyone,_ so there’s absolutely no reason for _sharing._ No way Suzie can contaminate it with her… everything.

It works out okay, mainly because Stiles sells the gesture as an apology for Derek’s earlier behaviour, and  Karin and Suzie seem to accept it.

Derek watches as the three of them head in to find a seat, eyes narrowed. Stiles is mistaken. There’s definitely something wrong with Suzie, if there isn’t, then why does Derek’s gut twist in knots every time she touches Stiles? 

Catching up with them quickly, he nabs a seat next to Stiles, and okay, he kind of has to push past Karin a little to do it, but he thinks he gets away with it.

So it kind of makes her spill her popcorn.

It’s okay. She’ll get over it.

As long as he can keep a close eye on Suzie, that’s the important thing.

The look Stiles is giving him is positively murderous, and either side of them Karin and Suzie seem to be having some kind of wordless conversation which Suzie clearly wins, leading Derek to consider the very real possibility that she’s a witch using telepathy to bend those around her to her will. Karin slumps in her chair and clears her throat. “So, Derek, Lydia says you grew up in Beacon Hills,” she says grudgingly.

“Yep,” he grunts. Suzie is whispering in Stiles’ ear, and it’s loud in the cinema, there’s lots of ambient noise, but Derek can easily tune in and hear her bare-facedly… telling Stiles about that one time she fell out of a tree and broke her arm when she was ten.

He huffs out a sigh. Like breaking an arm is impressive. That’s… Derek’s broken lots of things, more interesting things than an _arm_ . Someone impaled him on a pole once, right through his _chest_.

He leans over and says as much. Suzie looks horrified. Stiles is staring at him, mouth agape.

“A pole? That’s,” Suzie swallows, “kind of terrifying. Are you okay?”

“I’m here aren’t I?” Derek shrugs, smug.

Next to him, Karin mutters. “Can’t imagine why _anyone_ would’ve wanted to do _that._ ”

The film starts and for a while everything is quiet. Derek knows that, because while the others watch the film, he watches Suzie and Stiles. Watches Suzie reach in and steal popcorn from Stiles, even though she has her _own_. Watches the way she leans into him in the scary bits, like she’s hoping he’s going to put his arm around her, (he doesn’t). Watches as she pushes a button on her phone and starts to text someone, in the middle of the goddamn cinema.

Like _that_ isn’t the sign of true ultimate evil.

Stiles has to see it now.

Derek has been completely fucking vindicated.

Suzie leans over to Stiles, whispering in his ear, “I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you, okay?”

“Is everything okay?” Stiles whispers back.

“Oh, it’s fine it’s just— uh— Karin wants to leave.” She glances furtively at Derek and then quickly away.

Derek looks round. Karin isn’t there, and he has no idea when she left.

It occurs to him that he may not have been an _ideal_ date.

“Oh, no problem,” Stiles is saying, “Text me?”

“Okay.”

Then she leaves. And it’s just the two of them. In the cinema. Dateless, alone and unharmed.

Next to him, Stiles’ mouth is a tight line, his leg is jiggling furiously. A sure sign that he’s pissed.

It takes five more minutes of tense silence, during which time Stiles radiates disapproval like a beacon, and Derek shrinks further back into his chair, before Stiles finally leans across and hisses, “You. Me. Men’s room. Now.” Then he jumps to his feet and storms out.

And, okay, now he’s had a few minutes to gain perspective, Derek’s prepared to admit that it’s possible that he may, with the best of intentions, have been wrong about Suzie. Possibly.

Not that _that_ is gonna help him much now.  Reluctantly he stands and shuffles after Stiles.

 

-

 

“What the actual _fuck,_ Derek?” Stiles explodes as soon as they’re safely back in the men’s room.

“I didn’t like her.”

“Yes. I got that. We all got that. That. Was apparent. Here’s the thing. She wasn’t _your_ date. You had a date. A perfectly lovely date, who you spent the last half hour ignoring while you glared like a serial killer at _my_ date. My date who I _liked._ ”

“You liked her?” He doesn’t know why his heart drops but it does. “But she’s not-”

“She’s not what, Derek? Not a supernatural serial killer? Not funny enough? Not been impaled on a pole by a psychotic alpha? Not—”

“Not good enough!” Derek yells it, and he doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t mean to say it at all, even though he’s beginning to realize, _oh god,_ maybe _that_ was the problem all along. It isn’t that she’s evil. It’s that she was interested in _Stiles._

Stiles, who pauses mid flail, and stares at him, jaw hanging open. Two splotches of red appear high on Stiles’ cheeks, his hands drop to his sides. “Well guess what?” he says with icy calm. “You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for me. You don’t get to be a dick to the people I like. You don’t get to do that, Derek.”

“But-”

“She was nice.”

“You can do better.” Because, damn it, he will die on this hill.

“Who, Derek? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m perpetually single. There’s not exactly a queue of people knocking on the door to date me, because I spend all my time running around doing stuff for your pack! I have no life! None! I’m always jumping into danger to pull your ass out of the fire! I’ve completely fucking devoted myself to mmmpph-”

Derek kisses him. Later, he’ll claim it was the only way to get him to shut-up, but honestly, in that moment, he just wanted to. Because Stiles is right. He has devoted his life to Derek and Derek’s pack. He’s loyal and funny and smart and Derek trusts him. Maybe even loves him, or he could do, one day soon.

He just didn’t realize that’s what it was until now.

And Stiles, Stiles doesn’t kiss back straight away, he kind of stands there, slack-jawed, while Derek goes for it, but then, then he finally gets with the programme, finally starts kissing back and then it’s hot and frantic and perfect. And—

“You were jealous,” Stiles pants, breaking the kiss. “Admit it. That’s what the problem was this entire time. You were jealous.”

“No!" He sounds petulant to his own ears.

“Liar.” Stiles grins.

“A little bit jealous,” Derek concedes.

“You were a lot jealous. And you were a dick. You can’t be like that again. I’m serious.”

Derek's shoulders sag. “Okay. I was kind of a dick. I’m sorry.” And he means it.

"And you'll apologize to Karin and Suzie?"

Derek nods.

Stiles ducks his head, and when he looks up again, he’s smiling. “I guess it’s a good job I’m kinda crazy about you, huh?”

“You are?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “You are literally the guy who made me realize I liked guys.”

“ _Really?_ ” Derek feels a little smug.

“Yeah, really.” Stiles nudges him with his shoulder. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Haha. So. That happened. Best we don't speak of it. Or even try to imagine the many ways in which Lydia will respond when she finds out exactly what happened on that date. Still.
> 
> Comments and kudos always welcome. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://yodas-yo-yo.tumblr.com/), and I'm taking prompts if you're interested.


End file.
